


The things I do when missing you.

by Dark_Ruby_Regalia



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anal Play, Anal Plug, Foxtail Plug, M/M, Masturbation, No Plot, Noctis misses Ignis, Solo act
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-21 18:26:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17048315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_Ruby_Regalia/pseuds/Dark_Ruby_Regalia
Summary: While Ignis is away, Noctis will play.Completely indulgent!





	The things I do when missing you.

This might be the first time he walked home from the shopping district worried more about whether _they knew what he had_ rather than whether _they knew who he was_. He pulled the visor of his cap further down and picked up his pace, his satchel clutched to his chest, feeling heavier for the knowing what its pockets now concealed. Oh, Noct really had been a bit impulsive this time. A bit free to his own whims. Rarely did he get such precious seconds alone, and this afternoon… well, he’d… _well_.

He didn’t dare slow down nor relax until he’d thrown himself through the front door of his apartment, quickly locking himself in. A giddy smile of triumph was slow to dawn but quick to warm; he let the satchel slip from his arms onto his sofa, where he opened it, buckle then zipper, and pulled out a black velvet drawstring bag. Through the short flock he felt the heavy contents settle solid in the palm of his hand, and his smile vanished in an instant, overtaken by desire and the needs of curiosity. He bit his lip. 

He took a long shower, soaping himself in languorous strokes, heating up his skin under the torrent of warm water as he rinsed himself clean. Every inch. Then he dried himself like an afterthought and took to his bedroom, where the velvet bag sat on his quilt in a divet of its own creation, waiting for him. He loosened the drawstring and tipped the contents out: a steel bulb trailing a soft, fur tail. He’d chosen black to match his hair. It lay curled there, supple and waiting for his tentative hand to reach and stroke at it. Then he picked it up proper, his mouth falling open as his best laid plans re-wrote themselves in his mind. He’d thought to take it slow - to make a proper _thing_ of this - but now he just wanted it in him.

He sat on the edge of his bed while he rifled through the bedside drawer for lubrication. He had come to prefer oils - liked them for how long they stayed slick on his skin - and this little bottle let out a drop at a time, infuriatingly, as he upended it over his hand. The first few drips collected in his palm; the next few more strategically fell in beads on his fingertips, where he rubbed them around to coat, then collected more. More. Then he set the bottle down and moved his cock to the side with one hand while his oiled fingers aimed lower, locating his hole with a blunt press by two of them. He circled, felt himself flutter at the contact, desirous, pouty, _ah gods_ , he was eager. He pushed one finger through the breach and fell back into his pillows, sliding out, in, out. Easy. Two fingers then, nudging in through his rim, coaxing away resistance, hooking up inside for the pleasure of sensation and the way his breath came to him around gasps and silent moans. 

With his free hand he felt around for the tail, pulling it toward him until he had the plug in hand. It was cold, though that had nothing to do with the shiver that took him. Without sitting up he fumbled with slick fingers for the bottle again, eventually sparing a glance to locate it. Then came the agony of anticipation while he counted each drip onto the bulb of steel, where in its cool viscosity it resisted flow and held fast in slow drips down the side. Finally, _finally_ , he called it enough. Discarded the bottle again, then spread the oil around the smooth surface. He wiped the excess off his fingers onto his pucker, spreading his cheeks apart while he lined up the peak of the steel with his hunger. He slid it around on the surface, the cold nuzzle drawing a gasp and a thrill for more. It felt so different to anything else; so very _solid_ , unyielding. None of the soft, hot and human press of Ignis’ cock, nor the variable sensitivity of his exploring hands. This was _hard_ and _determined_ and _unsubtle_ ; something Noct’s body would have to make way for in entirety - there was no give and take. Just a demand to swallow whole. 

Noct pushed. He was curled over himself to try and watch as his flesh parted to the pressure, oil gathering at the junction of skin and steel in a transparent amber glistening seam. To begin it felt easy - like this, sustained, would reach its end - but after the initial acceptance, the toy expanded past what Noct was familiar with; it flared further than _gentle_ would overcome. Noct licked his lips and pushed harder, held his balls close to see better, cupping them in the palm of his hand, reaching down with his fingers to feel the meld of his straining muscle and cold metal, to rub at where he was taught against the intrusion, to feel that tension increase as he pushed harder again. _Oh gods_ , he worried; this is too much. Too big. He thought he’d chosen modestly, but now - in confrontation during the act - he worried he’d never get there. The widest part was yet to come, and he was already feeling himself pushed further apart than he ever remembers being. He took a breath, lay down again, never releasing his grip on the base of the plug. He gave a few oil-smeared tugs at his cock, and discovered it so rigid in wait, so desperately engorged, he relaxed in realisation this was still a good thing. This was a _great_ thing, and he was so fucking ready to take it all. He pushed harder. 

And his body kept spreading, and he moaned into his room, and he rolled his hips into the action, feeling the plug bed in further with each undulation, wondering how much wider it could get - how much further was left to go, and how would he ever get this out again - but gods it was too late now, he was panting for it, lying there with a sex sheen glistening on his brow and chest heaving each breath to fuel his craving, and --

Suddenly, _suddenly_ , as though he’d crested the high point and found weightlessness for a fraction of a second, he felt release. The stretch was gone, the entire bulb drawn full and huge into him and held tight by his hole constricting around the small waist of its shaft, cradled between what was wholly absorbed _inside_ and what was protectively guarding the outer. He lay there perfectly still, adjusting, awash in surge upon surge of new sensation. The waning chill of metal borrowing his body-heat; the invasion of his intimate space by an object. The press of it from within, the way it sunk inside his body, present in its weight and its width and its inanimate purpose as pleasure-tool. Noct moved to experiment, to feel it shift slightly inside him. Moved more to see whether there were limits to this. Found that, despite having this _thing_ buried inside, making itself very well known, he was comfortable. It felt amazing. 

He rolled in his sheets, hands-off, for countless minutes more, thrown beneath unexpected waves of pleasure as the thing adjusted with each motion, pressed from different angles. He found his only friction in the folds of his bedding, where his cock floundered in neglect, an incidental to the volume of attention elsewhere. He opened his eyes when he realised he once again wanted to _see_ it. To see it _in him_. He sat up, careful not to crush the tail beneath him, and stood.

And _oh_ , the way the weight dropped full against his clench. The way it dragged at him from within, pressing the swell of metal full against its means of escape… but _oh gods_ , the way his body held onto it possessively, trapping it in by shape and design, and how slippery and _known_ its protrusion was when he walked across the room… how delightfully the tail brushed between his thighs, tickling at them softly, falling to a sway in sympathy with his gait. He reached back to stroke at it from base to tip, then again with a little _tug_ this time, and he almost lost his knees in the middle of his floor, almost let his orgasm sneak up on him right there. Almost ended all of this before he’d admired himself in the throes of it. 

He stood in front of the mirrored door to his robe, cheeks flushed, hair limp and clinging to his face in damp clusters. He brushed his bangs back and saw the black blow of his eyes, his parted lips, pink-bitten, tongue-moist. Dropping his gaze lower, he watched his reflection brush a hand over his nipples, the flat milk-white plane of his stomach, his happy-trail dark by contrast. His cock pulsing in the air, wanting so much, receiving nothing. Noct yet again moved it aside to reach past it, touching at his entrance, feeling it flinch tight as if in fear of him removing its fun. Instead, of course, he pressed on the base of the plug, driving it up, though it couldn’t go deeper; he just wanted to feel it kick him again when he let go. 

Then he turned around and looked over his shoulder, following the silver, jagged crack of his scar from shoulder to hip to the dimples collecting shadows either side of his spine. Finally he looked to the cleft of his buttocks, where they split to make room for the tail. It was flexible and lithe, hanging almost to his knees, responding naturally to each movement he made. Noct _loved_ it. He swayed his hips and the tail took up the motion, and he caught a smile wide on his face… yeah, he _really_ loved it. 

He sunk to the ground before the mirror, propped on his elbow with his butt in the air, and pulled the tail up to drape over the small of his back… and _oh_ , he could see _everything_ now. The base of the tail attached to the hilt of the plug; the drips of oil that slid lazy down his leg; the shine of silver disappearing into the dark suck of his hole… the taut stretch and expand when he _pulled_ at it… 

His balls and cock were hanging between his legs, begging for a share of the attention, a copious strand of precome leaking from the tip and dripping onto the floor. He let go his tail and took hold of his shaft, and was about to give in to the short pump to tip him over, when --

His phone vibrated somewhere back on his bed. 

With a groan and an exasperated laugh he let himself go, crawling on hands and knees to check who it was. _Ignis_ , the lock-screen announced. The one person he would answer for in this condition.

“Hey, Iggy,” Noct greeted, flopping back into his pillows. He sighed in anticipation of the sound of Ignis’ voice, trailing a light touch up and down his stomach, lit up with sensitivity as he was. 

“Noct, I’m sorry, I can’t talk long today. About to endure yet another presentation here. I just wanted to say hello, while I could, in case I can’t call later.”

“How much longer until you’re home? Five more days?”

“Four and a half now I suppose. I’m counting too. How are things there?”

Noct raised his hips up into the weight of the plug, then lowered them back down, trying his hardest not to let on. “Everything’s fine. Nothing much happening. I guess that’s good enough.” 

He heard mumbling in the background of Ignis’ call, and waited silently while Ignis gave answers muffled by what was evidently a hand covering his microphone. When he uncovered it again, it was to say goodbye. 

“I miss you, Iggy,” Noct said instead. 

Ignis laughed. “Is that what you’re doing now? _Missing_ me?”

“Oh my _gods_ , Ignis, how did you know!”

“I’m… familiar with your patterns of breath…” Noct could imagine too well the grin on Ignis’ face. 

“OK, I’m caught out. Now I’m extra sad you have to go.”

“Maybe I’ll have to do some ‘missing you’ later, to catch up.”

They giggled through a rushed farewell cut too short by Ignis’ schedule. Noct let his phone drop, lying on the bed in a lazy funk of his own arousal. His orgasm had retreated a bit, leaving him adrift in the wake of overload, in no hurry to get back to the brink. His phone buzzed again with a message. 

It was Ignis, evidently sending in secret, judging by his economy of words. 

_Details?_ was all it said. 

Noct rolled onto his side to answer, wondering exactly how much to divulge. He went with honest but evasive, to test the water.

_I kinda bought a toy…_

He stared at his screen, waiting for a response. 

_Show me?_

_Really?_

_Yes please :)_

Noct was quite surprised. They’d talked about this before: the dangers of having the wrong content saved anywhere. If Ignis was asking for it now, Noct must have captured his attention quite thoroughly. This was new ground, and Noct was suddenly shy about it, though his cock obeyed no such emotion, lurching in his lap as the request took hold of his imagination. He left the bed for the mirror again, seeking the best view of himself in the reflection. Knees wide-spread on the ground, tail held off to the side; a twist in his spine as he looked at the camera in the glass, snapped a shot. He checked it, zooming right in on himself, feeling the fresh flush of arousal recapture him as he panned past his filled hole. There wasn’t a lot of detail, but there was plenty to feed the mind. It would do. He double-checked he was uploading it to Ignis, and pressed send…

And wow, did Ignis ever keep him waiting…

_Gods, Noct_ , he finally got back, followed quickly with an additional _You are perfect_ , which was followed in turn by a _I’d get to missing you right now if I could… Talk soon. Thank you._

Noct threw his phone further away and flung himself into his pillows. The thought of Ignis in his room using his photo was exactly what he needed to fixate on. Those long fingers of his unbuttoning his pants, working beneath the waistband of his briefs, stroking himself in the confined space to raise his cock from soft to hard. He’d stop to take his clothes off, draping them across the back of a chair before curling up on the anonymous expanse of hotel sheets with his phone in one hand, his urge gripped tight in the other...

Noct was stroking himself slowly from head to base, rocking his hips to bring the bulb of the plug hitting against his sweet spot. A tremor of warning shook him; he thrust into his hand and stayed there, and his orgasm overwhelmed him. He pulsed it out in spurts, clenching around the skirt of the plug with each, a keening moan escaping him to fill his quiet room. Then stillness. A deep breath. His spent cock softening in open palm; tail wrapped between boneless thighs; thoughts of his absent lover warm in his mind. 

_Four and a half days of ‘missing you’ to make it through,_ he thought…

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the very dear Flox, with whom the idea grew and blossomed and then made quite a mess ❤


End file.
